


Anger Management

by knightshade



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Humor, Sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:38:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2602166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightshade/pseuds/knightshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After threatening Maybourne, Jack gets sent to anger management training.  Hammond can order him to go, but he can’t order him to be happy about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anger Management

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I’ve been looking through the fragments on my hard drive and rescuing things. I had started this probably over 5 years ago and didn’t know where to go with it. Inspiration struck. This takes place after Bane.

**Anger Management**

 

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Jack asked appearing as summoned in General Hammond’s office.

 

“Have a seat, Colonel.”

 

Jack pulled out a chair, his Spidey sense tingling. Hammond looked like a man preparing to do battle – and not very eagerly. He shuffled some papers, cleared them aside, and then steeped his hands on the desk. “I’m afraid here’s been some fall out from your altercation with Colonel Maybourne.”

 

“Altercation? What altercation?”

 

“Jack, you threatened to beat the crap out of him in my office.”

 

“No, I did not threaten. I requested your permission to beat the crap out of him. I didn’t receive permission and therefore did not proceed. There was no threat there.”

 

Hammond sighed and cocked his head to the side. “He said you threatened him in the infirmary in front of witnesses.”

 

“I stepped between him and the door. He _interpreted_ that as a threat. I can’t help it that I’m taller than the little weasel.”

 

“So you didn’t tell him you were going to shoot him?”

 

Jack rolled his eyes. “Well, yeah, I said that. But that’s hardly a credible threat. The man just can’t take a joke.”

 

“Well, it would seem that the joke’s on you this time, Colonel. Maybourne raised the issue up the chain and as a result, you’re being sent to anger management training.”

 

“What?” Oh, for crying out loud! _Anything_ but that. Jack had no desire to sit through some touchy-feely-make-love-not-war group hug session.

 

“This Thursday, at Petersen,” Hammond continued.

 

“Sir, I don’t need anger management classes. I think I managed my anger quite well. Maybourne’s still walking and talking and not even bruised. He’s just a sore loser.”

 

“Jack, I’m going to level with you, if it were just Maybourne, I’d be inclined to let you talk your way out of this, but you do have a temper. I’ve seen you lose it around your team in a way that shuts down communication and probably isn’t very healthy.”

 

Jack was a little taken aback. Sure, he got angry from time to time but he didn’t think he was you-wouldn’t-like-me-when-I’m-angry bad. “Has someone complained? It was Daniel, wasn't it?”

 

“No, no. Nothing like that. But this training is a day out of your life and I think it might do you some good. If you go into it with an open mind, I think you might just learn something and come out of it a better leader.”

 

“But, sir, I don’t know the lyrics to Kumbaya. It’s really not my thing.”

 

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Hammond paused before throwing his trump. “Jack, I’m sorry. But this is an order.”

 

Jack knew when he was beaten. "Yes, sir," he said with just a hint of sarcasm as he saluted and left the room.

 

He heard Hammond call, “Open mind,” behind him.

 

Jack knew he got away with a lot with Hammond. Under the command of a lesser man, he'd have been put in his place long ago. If the good general said he had to go, he had to go.  

 

But he didn't have to be happy about it.

 

~oOo~

 

Jack pushed open the door to the training room and felt like he was back in high school. In detention. For fighting. Which summed up the current situation pretty accurately. Guys were sitting behind desks in uninterested sprawls, doing their best to seem too tough to care. A quick scan of the room confirmed what he had been dreading -- he was the highest ranking and oldest officer. Most of the guys were at least 20 years younger -- the young hot heads. Jack sighed and chose a seat close to the back. Yep, definitely detention.

 

The instructor joined them, a slight, bookish man who instantly reminded Jack of Daniel. “Good morning, class. My name is Gary Whippley. I’ll be your instructor today.”

 

He actually wrote his name on the white board. Jack sighed.

 

“Now, I know that most, if not all, of you are here under some form of duress. But we’re all stuck with each other so we might as well make the best of it, right?”

 

There were a few cranky grumbles. Jack sat quietly, head down. He was not eager to draw any attention to himself. Being the only colonel in the room, he was going to get singled out at some point. There was no need to hurry that along. Although Jack doubted this guy was military so there was some hope that he didn’t know the ranks.

 

"Ok so let's go around the room and get to know each other. Name, rank, and station,” Gary said.

 

The young hotheads snickered but they went down the rows of tables, dutifully providing the requested info.

 

“Colonel Jack O’Neill. Two Ls. I work at Cheyenne Mountain.” As he expected, several heads turned when he said colonel.

 

Gary tapped his pen on his clipboard. “Full bird?” he asked.

 

So much for the hope that he didn’t understand military ranks.

 

“Yeah,” Jack answered.

 

“I don’t get too many of those,” Gary said and then moved on to the next guy. Bastard, Jack thought.

 

A few more guys spoke and then they were done with the introductions.

 

“Now, we’re here today to discuss anger and to help give you some healthy approaches for dealing with it. Can someone give me a definition of anger?”

 

Jack wanted to beat his head on the table. Oh, was this going to be one long day. Root canals, Jaffa pain sticks, and Ne'tu were all sounding pretty good right about now. He’d actually consider zatting himself - if he had access to a zat, which unfortunately, he didn’t due to some crazy notion by the brass that they shouldn’t be seen in public.

 

After some prodding a few people piped up with definitions for Gary and he dutifully wrote them in marker on a big pad of white paper perched on an easel in the corner. Jack took to daydreaming while Gary droned on and pulled teeth to get audience participation.  

 

“Ok, everyone should have a pad of paper and a pen in front of them. Could everyone please make a list of the various things that frustrate you about others. The things that almost always make you mad. We call those triggers. Take about 10 minutes to try to identify yours and write them down.”

 

Ok, this Jack could do. This was almost fun. He started scratching on his paper. “Stupidity. People promoted past their level of competence. Dishonesty. Ladder climbers. Geeks. Snakes. Touchy feely people spouting psychobabble.” Jack looked down and grinned. His list probably wasn’t going to go over well.

 

After the ten minutes were up, Gary went around and asked for examples. Variations on stupidity were common answers. Jack didn’t volunteer anything and thankfully wasn’t asked.

 

“So it’s important to know ourselves well enough to know our triggers, see them coming, and work some strategies that we’ll go over later to avoid going down the predictable path to anger.”

 

Gary capped his pen and surveyed the group. “One of the problems with anger is that it can lead to abuse of an already existing power structure. It causes us to shut out legitimate points of view without exploring them. Colonel?” he asked and Jack sighed. “You’re obviously here for at least one specific incident.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“The person you lost your temper with, is he someone you argue with frequently?”

 

“Not frequently. Just every time I see him.”

 

Gary raised an eyebrow but then asked, “Is he someone of higher or lower rank?”

 

“Equal rank. I only pick on people my own size.” Well, okay, not physically his size, but equal rank in the ‘existing power structure’ anyway.

 

“So you agree that you were picking on him?”

 

“Oh, no. He had it coming.”

 

Gary tilted his head to the side. “Even removed from the moment you don’t think he might have had a legitimate point of view?”

 

“Nope. He was wrong. I stand by that and the facts of the situation bore it out.”

 

“And which of your triggers does he hit?”

 

Jack grinned wryly. “Promoted past his competence. Not to mention he’s a shady, smarmy, backstabbing idiot.”

 

“So you stand by your actions.”

 

“Completely.”

 

“Okay. Are there ever any times you find yourself regretting your angry behavior? Do you find yourself having to apologize?”

 

Jack shifted uncomfortably. “Sure.” Doesn’t everyone?

 

“So is that often to one person?”

 

Jack nodded slowly, suddenly not liking the direction this was going.

 

“And what is this person’s relationship to you?”

 

“He’s on my team.”

 

“And is he higher or lower rank than you?”

 

“He doesn’t actually have a rank. He’s a civilian.”

 

“Under your command?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And which of your triggers does he hit?”

 

“Geek. Archeologist subtype.”

 

“That’s a rather … specific trigger.”

 

Jack rolled his eyes, annoyed with the psychobabble ‘open question’ tactic. He’d spent enough time with Dr. MacKensie to see it coming a mile away. “Everyone’s got something.”

 

“And what is it about ‘geeks’ that you don’t like?”

 

“Being book smart and common sense stupid. Being curious to the point of getting into trouble _all the time_.”

 

“And the person on your team, he’s got those traits.”

 

“Sometimes.”

 

“I imagine a civilian scientist might not always follow orders without question.”

 

“Ah. Yeah. You could say that.”

 

“Is he ever right?”

 

He squirmed uncomfortably. He definitely didn’t like the direction this was going. “Even a broken clock …” Jack started, but then stopped himself. He knew that wasn’t fair. “Yes, he’s right sometimes. But he also gets himself and the rest of my team in trouble a lot.”

 

“So it’s a balancing act.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And being in the military, you probably err on the side of caution.”

 

“I need to keep my team, including my archeologist, safe. It’s my responsibility as the commanding officer.”

 

“Do you shut him down out of habit?”

 

Jack picked up a pencil at his table and started tapping it against his other hand. “Um, sometimes.”

 

“That can be a form of bullying behavior.”

 

“I’m not bullying Daniel,” Jack said, angrily. But he did sometimes. Even he knew that. “It’s just how we communicate. He gets it, I get it.”

 

“Really? Are you sure he gets it?”

 

“He’s a civilian. He can leave at any time he wants and he’s still on my team.”

 

“Do you want him to leave?”

 

“No.” Jack did not want Daniel to leave. Daniel was an irritating, rash, idealistic, naive, frustrating, but completely indispensable part of his team. Not to mention all those same words paired with indispensable friend. If it weren’t for Daniel, he wouldn’t even be here. No, he definitely did not want Daniel to leave.

 

"Well, then it might be in your best interests, and the best interests of your team, to learn to control your temper and find better ways to communicate.”

 

Much as he'd like to, Jack couldn't really argue with that.

 

~oOo~

 

Jack joined the team in the gateroom. Of course it was Carter who tried to ask.

 

“So, sir, how was …”

 

“Ack, no,” he said, making two handed, crossing slashing motions in front of his throat. “Let’s never speak of that again, shall we?”

 

“Whatever you say, sir,” she said, clearly holding back mirth. She and Daniel shared a look.

 

And of course - of course! - their first mission post anger management class would be an archeological survey of a former but apparently abandoned Goa’uld controlled planet. Ready made to push all his buttons. Those planets never turned out to be truly uninhabited or as safe as they first appeared. Maybe, just maybe there'd be a beautiful and mysterious damsel in distress for Daniel to go chasing after too.

 

Jack practiced his breathing techniques while waiting for the gate to engage.

 

They stepped through and a cold tumultuous millisecond journey later, they were stepping out into a ruin which even Jack had to admit was more beautiful in person than on MALP TV. Daniel had predictably lost all awareness of his P90 and was staring, gape-mouthed up at the beautiful stained glass ceiling.

 

"Daniel, we need to make sure the area is secure before you start with the tourist routine,” Jack said and then added as nicely and non-sarcastically as he could. “If you don’t mind.”

 

Daniel glanced at him, did a double take when the last part of his statement soaked in, and then dutifully shook off the archeologically induced awe. “Yeah. Sorry, Jack.”

 

They swept the rest of the building with Carter taking point and Jack bringing up the rear. He figured it was a waste of time trying to rely too much on Daniel at the moment, who was at least making a valiant effort to pay attention to their security. After they had determined the building was empty and no one was outside, Jack posted Teal’c on sentry duty and turned Daniel free. He walked from room to room, his head craned upward, completely transfixed by the architecture. Jack checked Daniel’s boot laces every room or so – if they came undone, he would certainly end up flat on his face.

 

Finally Daniel sat down in what was some sort of great room, pulled out his journal, and started making notes. “Jack, do you know what this means?”

 

“Oh, yes. _This_ , whatever this is, means we are going to be here a long, long time.” Oops. That was sarcasm. He was supposed to avoid sarcasm. Although Jack wasn’t sure he was going to follow through with that plan. Managing his anger did not mean surrendering his entire personality. He thought that was way too big a sacrifice, not to mention impossible.

 

“Jack, stained glass as an art form didn’t evolve until the 7th or 8th century and mostly in the Christian West. This means the Goa’uld were taking people from Earth a lot later than we thought.”

 

“Hmmmmm.”

 

“Jack, we really need to study this temple. I need at least a week.”

 

Of course he did. Jack closed his eyes and took three very deep calming breaths. He shut out the fact that he was going to be stuck here for hours and hours of boring scientific discovery that would not, in all likelihood, include any cools weapons. Breathe in 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. Breathe out 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8.

 

“Jack, did you hear me?” Daniel asked.

 

“Of course I did, Daniel,” he answered with only the minimum necessary sarcasm.

 

“Sir, what are you doing?” Carter asked hesitantly.

 

“Shhh, Carter. I’m going to my happy place.” He could imagine the concern clouding their twin wide-eyed expressions. "You know, from that recent activity that we are never going to speak of."

 

“And what is your happy place, Jack?” Daniel finally asked.

 

Jack didn’t answer.

 

“Your cabin?” Daniel ventured.

 

“No.”

 

“Your pond?” Carter tried.

 

“No.”

 

“The armory at the SGC?”

 

Oh, Daniel. “Close. But not that literal. It’s kind of like the Emerald City and I’m Oz,” he said, imagining the look of confusion that Daniel and Carter shared. “Except that the yellow brick road is paved with an endless supply of C4 bricks, the flying monkeys drop grenades on my command, and all the turrets around the city have really big honking space guns,” he said wistfully.

 

Jack opened his eyes, immensely gratified by the look of horror on both their faces.

 

“Jack, I don’t …”

 

“Ahk.” Jack held up one finger. “Before you say anything, Daniel, think very carefully. Do you want your week of traipsing through the ruins on this planet or not?”

 

Daniel’s mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. “Uh, well, whatever works for you, Jack,” he finally said.

 

Jack closed his eyes again and smiled. “I think General Hammond was right. I think the training that shall not be named might have been useful after all. I’m just going to sit here in my happy place while you go exploring.” He made a shooing motion with his hand and listened to their boots tromp away. Then he settled back to enjoy the relative serenity. In five more minutes he’d go call the SGC and tell them to send in the geeks.

 

Archeologist subtype.

 

\-------------

~knightshade

Nov 11, 2014


End file.
